


fire in the water

by bravevulnerability



Category: Castle
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:00:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1773346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravevulnerability/pseuds/bravevulnerability
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'The problem, though, was that her staring had set him on fire. And he failed to find relief from the burn.' Post 3x23. Two shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A companion piece to 'bathed in the night', but can easily stand alone. Set late season 3, more specifically post 3x23 (Pretty Dead)

* * *

Every once in a while he would catch her staring at him. He pretended not to notice, but managed to watch her through his peripheral vision as her eyes roamed his body and her tongue snuck free to wet her lips.

He didn't mind the extra attention, no, not at all, but it wasn't necessarily like her. He would never expect her to be so open about any sort of admiration she held for his body. He was open about his admiration for hers, always had been, but these types of things rarely swung both ways between them.

The problem, though, was that her staring had set him on fire. And he failed to find relief from the burn.

Was it possible to be set ablaze for days, nearly a week, straight? Flaming and feverish because of one woman, who was happily in a relationship with someone else.

Castle huffed indignantly at the thought of Josh as he roughly unbuttoned his shirt, frowning when he pulled too hard and one of the shiny discs broke free from its line of companions and scattered across the tile floor of his bathroom. Great.

He had only arrived home from the precinct a half hour before. It was late, but after they had closed the case of the dead beauty queen and he had parted ways with Beckett, he had stopped by the Old Haunt for a quick drink, hoping it would rid his mind of the salacious look his partner had sent him over her shoulder after a casual promise of "see you tomorrow". He didn't even think she was aware she had done it, but it still left him helpless and wanting, even wishing he had invited her along to share a drink at his bar. Her company would have done little good though, probably would have pained him more if he was being honest.

He slid the dark blue button down from his shoulders, let his undershirt follow, and then his pants. He was down to his boxers and had just reached to turn on the shower when he heard a sharp knock resounding from the front door.

Seriously?

He ignored the knocking and rid himself of his underwear. His mother was home and he knew she would get the door, took pleasure in greeting every guest with her dramatic flair anyway. The person at the door was probably there for her actually. It was nearing midnight and he surely wasn't expecting anyone at the socially unacceptable hour.

Castle stepped into the shower and sighed contently as the hot water pounded against the tense muscles of his upper body. He'd stayed up late, writing into the early morning hours for the last couple of nights, even falling asleep at his desk once, and the prolonged position of sitting in a chair, hunched over a keyboard for hours on end always left a slight but aching strain in his neck and shoulders. Usually, he would be rather proud of himself for losing sleep over his craft, but he almost felt ashamed tonight.

Because he hadn't been writing about Nikki Heat lately. He had been up writing about her, unable to sleep due to the images – the utterly inappropriate images – that had been swarming his brain the past few nights. Writing was the only way he knew how to find relief from the onslaught she caused, but he still felt an irrational tinge of guilt regardless.

God, just thinking about her had him hardening under the spray and he dropped his forehead to the cool tile wall. He'd gotten off on the thought of her plenty of times before, but tonight he knew it wouldn't be nearly enough to satisfy the craving. He wanted her there, in the flesh.

He curled his hand around his shaft nonetheless, pretending her long, slim fingers could replace his, and circled his thumb around his swelling tip. Having a writer's imagination did help in situations like these; he could picture her so clearly in his mind's eye, had memorized every line and curve of her lithe body he'd been granted the pleasure of seeing, especially when she donned that excuse for a swimsuit during their recent trip to LA. Her name slipped free on a quiet groan at the vision, but he startled at the soft gasp that followed and was too real to be fantasy.

Castle's eyes flew open and his head jerked towards the now open shower door, where Kate Beckett stood watching him.


	2. Chapter 2

Rick's jaw dropped, the apology already on his lips dying the moment he saw her face. Her cheeks were flushed, the splashes of color like flames rising from the skin of her neck, and her pupils were so dilated that her irises looked nearly black while traveling down the length of his exposed body.

"Kate?" he called to her hesitantly and watched as her gaze cut sharply back to his.

She didn't answer him and he swore he had to be in some sort of dream when she began to come closer. He'd fallen asleep at his desk. That had to be it.

But her touch was too real to be imaginary when she grazed her fingertips down his shoulder.

She didn't take off her clothes as she stepped into the shower with him, only slid the glass door closed behind her to keep the spray from drenching the floor, letting the water soak her instead. Her yoga pants and cotton t-shirt clung to her within seconds as she stood silent and somewhat dazed in front of him, like she was in a dream of her own.

"You're driving me crazy, Castle," she whispered, looking up at him through the mist.

"I know the feeling," he said without thinking, still in a state of disbelief because they were standing in his shower, having a conversation about how she was apparently as worked up as he was.

"Every night I get home and I can't even think straight because of _you_."

Irritation suddenly flared in her eyes, but it was barely there, too overtaken by the lustful need. She glanced down and knocked his hand away from his length. He couldn't help the groan that tumbled free or the way his hips twitched when she wrapped her scorching hand around his erection.

"Kate-"

"I broke up with Josh," she added, slowly stroking her fingers up and down, occasionally pumping and sending shots of electricity through his veins, as if that one sentence made all of this okay.

Her hand around him, creating that perfect friction, was tormenting and heavenly and had his blood singing, but it wasn't right. He wanted her, _so much_ , but for more than this.

Castle gritted his teeth and grabbed her wrist, stilling her delicious ministrations. She glared up at him with confusion and even a hint of hurt hiding in the luminous brown and gold pools of her eyes.

"Are you sure you should be here?"

She wrenched her hand from his grasp.

"You don't want me here, Castle?" she questioned, using the signature arch of her eyebrow on him and defiantly tilting her chin upwards. He always forgot she was a few inches shorter than him and despite everything, the height difference managed to turn him on even more.

He swallowed hard and matched the interrogation worthy stare with one of his own, narrowing his gaze on her seriously.

"I think you're perfectly aware of how much I want you here, Beckett. But I do _not_ want to be something you regret."

She softened a little at that, her tense shoulders slumping and the thin line of her lips curving upwards into a small, but tender smile.

"No." She shook her head resolutely, water droplets scattering from her dripping hair. "I don't think I'd be able to regret you if I tried."

He searched her face for the slightest sign of dishonesty, hoping desperately not to come across any, because Kate Beckett was in his shower, wanting him, and he wasn't sure he had the willpower to turn her away.

She lifted her hands to his neck, curling her fingers through the damp hair at the base of his skull and leaning close enough so that her clothed breasts were pressing against his naked chest, where he was sure she could probably feel his heart pounding violently against his ribcage.

"Finish what you were doing before you saw me," she murmured into his ear, biting down gently and smoothing over the offended skin with her tongue. "Just make it a reality this time."

He turned his head and kissed her, working his lips against hers in a dance they'd done only once before. But kissing her came so naturally, as if they did it every day, and he took his time exploring the sweet cove of her mouth until she moaned impatiently and undulated her hips against his thigh. He moved a hand to her waist, travelled lower, and cupped her through her pants, feeling the heat penetrating through the sodden fabric that had nothing to do with the temperature of the shower.

"Castle, please," she breathed, helplessly grinding down into his palm. "I need this, I need – I need you to touch me."

He kept his eyes glued to her face as he trailed his fingers up to her stomach and along the waistband of her pants, watching her teeth dig sharply into her lower lip in anticipation.

"Stop teasing," she huffed, grabbing his hand and shoving it downwards where his fingers had been leisurely heading.

"God, Kate," he murmured, immediately feeling how wet she was.

"The past week," she managed around a gulp of air as his fingers glided in lazy circles over her clit. "All I could think about was this. Just – every fucking night, Rick."

The combined impact of her confession and the sound of his first name rolling off her tongue had him throbbing almost painfully, his entire body on the verge of combustion because of her. As usual.

"Enough of this," he growled, withdrawing his hand and tugging her soaked shirt over her head, her sports bra going with it. "I want you."

She hissed and arched into his hands as he paused to caress her newly bared breasts, swiping his thumbs over her taut nipples before skating them down the expanse of her toned abdomen.

"And I am not doing this with you fully clothed in my shower," he grunted, battling with the pants that were plastered to her skin until they finally fell to the shower floor with a wet slap and she kicked them away.

He gripped her thighs and she held to his shoulders as he lifted her and pressed her flat against the cold tile of the wall.

She gasped as they collided and the evidence of his arousal came into contact with her core, before tightening the arms and legs wrapped around his frame, sealing their bodies together so there was not an inch of space between.

"Castle," she hummed breathlessly into his shoulder, teeth grazing his slick skin. "No more waiting."

He slid into her with one smooth thrust and they simultaneously moaned at the deep, filling sensation of him finally being inside her.

He gave her a second to adjust, savoring the hot and tight feel of her surrounding him. After years of imagining, it came as no surprised to him that fantasy was nothing compared to the real thing.

Kate sighed contently against his cheek and rocked her body into his.

"Don't stop," she husked throatily, purposely clenching her inner muscles around him and causing his breath to catch.

He found her mouth while they continued in a sloppy but seamless rhythm, their bodies slipping and sliding against one another as the air grew thicker with humidity from the combined heat of the shower's steam and their building tempo.

He had always envisioned their first time would be desperate - urgent, intense, and eager. And he was right, but there was more to it, more layers. It was in the way she touched him, caressed whatever part of him she could reach, kissed him back with passion that spoke volumes. Actions were always louder than words with Kate.

He matched the stroke of his tongue to the cadence of their movements, the clash of their hips and audible slaps of their wet skin, and one of her hands slipped downwards to cup his ass, urging him on. He lowered his mouth to her jaw, placing a path of open mouthed kisses down her neck, knowing she was close.

"Castle," she panted, fisting her free hand in his hair so tightly fissures of pain mixed with the intense waves of pleasure.

He dug his fingers into her hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and nipped gently at her thrumming pulse point. "Let go, Kate. Let go, I'm with you."

He knew the moment her orgasm hit her, heard her quietly sob his name and felt the tight coil of her body come completely undone and weightless against his. He followed after only a few short thrusts, keeping his arms secure around her even as the sparks of pleasure shot down his spine and threatened to send them both toppling to the ground.

She was the first to move, unlocking her ankles from behind him a minute later and carefully untangling their mess of limbs before finding the slick tile floor with her tentative feet and wobbling legs. He reached over to cut off the spray of the shower, the water starting to go cold, and when he glanced back she was gazing up at him through the dark curtain of her lashes.

"Do you mind if I stay the night?" she asked, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it before.

He cradled her face in his palms, smoothing back the strands of wet hair stuck to her cheeks, and the smile she gave him was so wide, so beautiful, he couldn't resist capturing her lips in a chaste kiss, letting it fall apart when his own smile broke against hers and their teeth clashed.

"Obviously you have to unless you want to walk home in that," he said, tilting his head towards her items of drenched clothing strewn across the shower floor.

She smirked and reached behind him to slide the shower door open.

"Guess I have no choice then."

He grinned and followed her out, plucking a plush, white towel from the rack and draping it over her shoulders before grabbing another and wrapping it loosely around his waist.

"I'll let you borrow some of my clothes to sleep in," he assured her while she attempted to squeeze the water from her hair.

She shot him that same salacious look he'd received at the precinct earlier in the evening, what now suddenly felt like a lifetime ago.

"Who says I'll need clothes, Castle?"

She dropped the towel and sauntered into his bedroom.

"And who says we'll be sleeping?" she added, throwing him a wicked grin over her perfectly bare shoulder.

Neither sleep nor clothing was found that night.


End file.
